Candy padded into the kitchen around eight in the morning, her robe half open and having just finished scratching her ass. Marcus was sitting at the kitchen table, a pte of eggs and bacon to the side of him. He was hunched over a scroll with a quill in one hand, bacon in the other, lips pressed tight in concentration.

  “Oh, Cam, I mean, Candy,” he stammered, “you’re up early.”

  “I didn’t want to miss my appointment with the mage,” she expined, eyes narrowing. “What are you up to?” He only regressed to calling her Cam when he was hiding something…

  Marcus startled. He tried to casually roll up the scroll, but not before she caught a glimpse of the title in elegant, looped calligraphy.

  “The Modern Correction Colr: 12 Discreet Designs for the Hesitant Wife.” Candy froze. Marcus did not meet her eyes.

  “Oh gods,” she said slowly. “You’re brochure shopping for colrs? For ME?”

  “Not, uh, not like that,” Marcus said quickly. “I was just looking. It’s not what it looks like.”

  “It looks,” she said, walking forward with arming calm, “like you were about to size my neck.”

  Marcus cleared his throat. “It’s… just a Level One. A new wife training colr. Lic. Supposed to be soft.” She stared. He continued, foolishly, “They give newly-colred wives more leeway. You’d be under less scrutiny in public, and it might calm Mrs. Prim down. Think of it like armor. Pretty armor.”

  Candy leaned over, eyes narrowing, and unrolled the scroll fully. Halfway down the page, circled in charcoal, was a sleek grey option under the Correction Colrs heading. She blinked. Then looked at him.

  “You circled a correction colr.”

  Marcus raised both palms. “Okay, that was just curiosity. I wasn’t going to buy it!”

  “Uh-huh…”

  “No really!” He insisted. "But seriously, if you just read the perks, I think you might be down for it. You should see how guards have to behave with you if you have one!”

  “Oh, uh, well, if you really think it will help” she conceded, “here, I’ll take a look.”

  Marcus was stunned, but a feeling of relief flooded through him. Maybe she wouldn’t be pissed after all. He handed it over. She took it, said "uh-huh, uh-huh" while nodding as she pretended to read it. Then, very quickly. she rolled it up and smacked him, firmly, upside the back of his head.

  “OW!”

  “That’s for browsing high-control bondage wear before your forced wife’s had breakfast!”

  “It’s not bondage!” Marcus hissed. “It’s… culturally enforced behavior management.”

  She smacked him again.

  “NO COLLARS!”

  “But - “

  “NO COLLARS!” she barked again, raising the rolled-up pamphlet.

  He winced. “Okay! Okay!" He yelled, raising his hands in a yielding gesture. "You win! No colrs.”

  Candy unrolled the scroll again, squinting. “Wait. ‘Buzzes when tone or posture deviates.’ What does that even mean?”

  Marcus shifted uncomfortably. “If your voice gets too sharp, or you stand with your hands on your hips, the colr vibrates. Lightly. Er, and, uh, too much and you get a light jolt.” She stared at him. Then tossed the rolled-up brochure onto the table, took his pte of bacon and started walking out.

  “Hey, that’s my bacon!”

  “You don’t deserve bacon!” She yelled. Candy turned back toward the door, muttering.

  “Let me know when they release a colr that shocks you every time you make a stupid decision. I’ll get that one gift-wrapped.” As she got further and further away all he heard was mumbling that may or may not have contained some very undy-like words and phrases directed against him.

  Marcus quietly unrolled the brochure and sighed, then crossed out the correction colr with an apologetic line. Above the door frame the Obedience Sigil that tracked wifely tone and general submission lit up. Oh boy were they ever going to get a fine, and they were definitely going to get an ear full from Mrs. Prim and the Sergeant this week.